Hours of Darkness
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: The Watchful Peace has ended. Mirkwood grows dark. The Elves are restless. These are times that try faith and friendship.
1. Shadow

**Author's Note: **I owe a million thank-yous to Melethril, who prodded and encouraged and pretty much didn't back down until I'd written this whole thing. :-) The story is complete in three parts (and it's fully written, so no worries there).

It's set after _Where Battle Ends_, Fic #4 in the _Mirkwood Matters _series, and will probably make more sense if you've read that first, although it isn't necessary. It's also sort of referenced in _Practise to Deceive_, Fic #3 in _The Toys of War_.

Also, I'm going back to this 'verse after an insanely long time, so please be forgiving! ;-)

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to the professor.

* * *

**Hours of Darkness**

**Part I: Shadow**

**Thranduil**

The winter night is cold and dark. A shadow lies over Greenwood the Great. The halls of the stronghold are still, the Elves uncharacteristically silent as they go about the business of their lives.

The Watchful Peace has drawn to a bloody, battle-filled close. It is a sadly depleted War Council that is meeting in my study. The room where it usually meets is nearby, but it would be unbearably disheartening to sit around the long table and count the empty chairs.

"What word?" I ask Arbellason.

The commander of my army responds with a helpless shrug. "Ellaurë has gone to help Bercalion. They are holding the border to the south, but they need reinforcements. Mîr-megil is pushing his own forces south, but it will not be enough. We must send them more warriors."

I nod, turning to my son, who is standing by the window with Thorontur, the Archery Master. "Legolas?"

"There has been no message from Aeroniel," Legolas says, exchanging a glance with Thorontur. "Colfind has gone to help her with such archers as we could muster. I can pull some of the archers off their patrols, if I must, but…"

"But the archers are all on double watches in any case," Thorontur finishes for him.

"I will speak to Îdhron when he returns," Arbellason offers. "I expect him in the stronghold tomorrow morning. If he can spare enough horsemen…" He shakes his head. "But, Legolas, if we do need archers –"

"I will do what I can. But I doubt Lady Ellaurë and Lord Bercalion can wait until Aeroniel has returned, and only the youngest archers are in the stronghold now. I do not want to send them to the border without an experienced leader. I can take them myself –"

"Only if there is no other option," Arbellason says firmly. "I do not want you on more than routine patrols until Mídhaer and Ionwë have returned, Legolas. Thorontur and your father and I cannot be the sole members of the War Council in the stronghold. None of us sees battle regularly anymore."

"You are needed for other purposes now, my lord," Legolas says with a light smile, as though he knows how much the forced inactivity frustrates all three of us.

"That may be. But I want you here for the moment." After a moment's hesitation, Arbellason goes on, "I am not questioning how you deal with your warriors, Legolas, but how much longer do you intend to keep Saeldur from his duties?"

Legolas meets the older Elf's eyes squarely. "I know my archers, Lord Arbellason. Saeldur says he is ready to fight, but he is still grieving. It has only been two weeks."

"Celephindeth came to me," interjects Thorontur, glancing from Legolas to Arbellason to me. "I would not say this if there were anybody else here, but… She begged me not to let Saeldur go into battle so soon. She said she could not bear to send another child into danger so soon after Candnaur's death."

"What did you tell her?" Arbellason asks.

"What do you think?" Thorontur demands. "I told her that I no longer command the archers and it is not my decision."

I note, with gratitude, Arbellason's approving nod. Commanding the archers is one of the most demanding and thankless tasks imaginable, especially when courtiers who have never even held a bow insist on questioning every decision Legolas makes. But the War Council, and especially Thorontur, Arbellason and Ellaurë, support him completely. It is not everything, but it is enough.

"I would not let Saeldur return to his duties yet in any case," Legolas says. "He is not ready to face battle. It would do more harm than good. He is grieving and he blames himself for Candnaur's death, though he has no cause. It was not his fault."

"It was not your fault, either," I say sharply.

Legolas meets my eyes. "I know."

There is a long pause, which is broken by Arbellason.

"I think we have decided all we can for now. I will speak to Îdhron. Legolas, tell me at once if there is a message from Aeroniel."

He leaves. Thorontur, with a squeeze to Legolas' shoulder and a nod to me, goes after him.

Left alone with my son, I ask, "When is your next patrol?"

"Tomorrow morning."

I cannot keep the relieved smile from breaking across my face. I have not spent time with Legolas outside a War Council for _days_. "Good. Then you can have dinner with me now."

Legolas, smiling back, follows me from the room.

* * *

**Legolas**

I am trying to keep my patience. I _truly _am, but in all the time we have known each other – and we have been friends since we were Elflings – has Saeldur been _this _difficult.

"I _will _ride with you!" he snaps furiously.

"Lord Thorontur feels you are not ready. And –"

"Lord Thorontur only trains the archers," Saeldur growls. "I passed my trials when you did. _You _are our commander, Legolas. If you do not want me to fight, at least have the courage to take responsibility for your own decision."

"I was about to say I agree with Thorontur. There. It is my decision. Will you _accept _it now?"

Saeldur glares at me. "You agree with Thorontur."

"I think you should not be on active duty yet. You are not ready – _wait_," I say, forestalling his angry objection. "I do not impugn your ability as an archer, Saeldur."

"So you doubt my courage."

I resist the urge to throw something at him. As we have been told on more than one occasion, we are no longer Elflings and we can no longer settle disagreements with fistfights. Especially not _this _disagreement.

"Your grief for your brother is too near. You should not be in battle at such a time."

Saeldur seizes my tunic in both hands and pushes me back against the wall. I barely refrain from rolling my eyes.

"You are only proving my point, Saeldur."

"I _am _ready to fight."

His forearm pins me to the wall. I make no attempt to push him away; it will only upset him more, and Saeldur is hardly likely to hurt me.

"Saeldur –"

"I am going to return to my duties. No matter what you have to say on the subject."

"As your friend I want what is best for you," I tell him as calmly as I can. "As your commanding officer I am responsible for your safety. I will _not _give you leave to join a patrol when you are mourning your brother."

"You did not scruple to give Candnaur permission to stay in camp though he was not even a warrior," Saeldur snarls.

I flinch – I cannot help it. Saeldur knows me, and that was meant to hurt.

Saeldur's eyes widen, as though he has just realized what he said, and his expression turns apologetic. "Legolas…"

"No," I cut him off. I know he was only angry, but we cannot have this conversation until we are both feeling more rational. "We can discuss this later. I have a patrol to lead in a few hours, and you have work to do."

"Work," Saeldur scoffs. "Watching children play with their bows."

"Training the novices. Lord Thorontur is glad to have your help – he _is_, Saeldur," I insist, when he looks disbelieving. "They have much to learn from you. And they admire you."

"At least somebody does."

"Saeldur!" I push him away, and he blinks as though suddenly realizing that he was pinning me to the wall. He flushes, caught between shame and anger. I sigh. "I trust you with my life. You know that. All I ask is that you let yourself recover."

"If you trusted me, you would not think I needed to recover."

This is getting ridiculous. We might argue, but Saeldur would never imagine I did not trust him unless…

"Who has been upsetting you?" I ask.

"_You _have," he snaps. "Doubting my loyalty –"

"Saeldur, please. You know I have never doubted your loyalty."

"You may never have done it before, but you are doing it now." He goes to the door. "Forgive me for wasting your time, my prince."

He leaves. I force myself not to go after him. We will only argue more if I do.

* * *

**Thranduil**

The Council meeting is one of the most tumultuous I have ever presided over. Everybody's nerves are frayed. The forest is growing darker, and as fiercely as my warriors fight to stem the tide, despite the daring sorties and night raids, we are holding on by a fingernail and the Council knows it.

I have just seen Legolas off. He looked weary, despite his relatively relaxed night, and I know he is pushing himself harder than he should.

I know, but I cannot prevent him. I cannot even _suggest _that he take time to rest. I expect my people to send their children and spouses and siblings into battle with no guarantee that they will survive it. How can I do less?

All the same, I am feeling irritable myself, and in no mood to humour Norgalad when he launches into a complaint about the increased restrictions the War Council has announced on movement through Greenwood. I point out, a little tersely, I admit, that the measures were taken in the interest of general safety, that we are doing all we can.

We have had this debate every _day _since the announcement.

"That is what you have been telling us for _weeks_, Thranduil!" he snaps, as though _I _am the one being unreasonable. "You said that as soon as the warriors could return to a normal schedule, the restrictions would be lifted."

A sharp glance from Thorontur warns me not to react, and Arbellason picks up the thread smoothly.

"We all hoped that would happen quickly," he says. "That is proving difficult."

"And we are to be confined to the stronghold indefinitely?"

"I understand your frustration," Arbellason responds with a dangerous smile. "And I trust _you_ understand that most of our warriors have barely rested for weeks. I assure you that you cannot possibly be more eager to return to our normal routine than they are."

Norgalad has the grace to look abashed.

The meeting ends quickly after that. Nobody quite dares to say anything else to Arbellason, whose eyes are flashing like he _hopes _someone dares to impugn the honour of his warriors, just so he can demonstrate what happens to those who do.

I return to my study to find Saeldur waiting for me. I have to suppress a groan. Normally I am more than willing to speak to any young warriors who need encouragement or a sympathetic ear, but at the moment all I want is some peace.

"Saeldur."

"I want to fight, my king," he says without preamble.

"So I have been told. But both Legolas and Thorontur feel you are not yet ready. You have served the realm with distinction, Saeldur. There is no shame –"

"I _am _ashamed," Saeldur cuts in furiously. "It shames me to stay in the stronghold in safety while my companions – my _friends_ – ride to defend our home. I know Legolas and Lord Thorontur worry about me, but they have no cause. I am ready, my king. I am."

I cannot hold back a frown at that. It sounds suspiciously like…

"Why are you here, Saeldur?"

Saeldur hesitates a moment. Then he seems to gather his courage. "I hoped… If… My king, if you tell them I am ready…"

"I see. You have come here expecting that I will annul an order given by both your commanding officer and the Archery Master." Saeldur flushes as the implications of his action dawn on him. Debate is encouraged, but in a kingdom at war we do not, I _cannot_, condone disobedience. "You should know better than that."

"You will not tell them?" he asks.

I sigh. If I thought Saeldur was simply trying to escape a reprimand, I _would _tell Thorontur, at least, but I know the young archer well enough to know that he wants to spare Legolas' feelings. It will not hearten my son if he hears that his trusted second-in-command went behind his back in an attempt to have him overruled.

"I will not tell them," I say at last, "if your protest ends immediately."

Saeldur, cheeks still scarlet, gets to his feet and leaves without another word.

* * *

**Legolas**

"How bad is it?" I murmur.

"It is serious," Voronwë responds, his voice grim and tense. "But, Elbereth be praised, we have lost nobody in this. There are injuries." His hand flits over my chest, deftly undoing my quiver and pulling it off, and then he peels back my tunic to bare my ribs. "Hold still."

"But I have to –"

"You have to listen to me, because when it is a question of your safety I am answerable to Lord Arbellason, not to you." He holds me down with embarrassing ease with just one hand, using the other to paw through his pack. "Never again will I let Eredhion organize my pack," he mutters. "I can find _nothing_! If I did not know better – ha!" He fishes out a small, flat box. "Do you want something to dull the pain?"

"No. It will dull my senses as well, and I cannot afford that now."

He rolls his eyes and mutters something involving the words 'Elfling' and 'idiot', but he does not object. I grimace at the first pull of the needle, and look around the clearing, trying to distract myself from the stitches.

"Sound off," Voronwë calls, guessing what I want.

I listen to the archers as they call out their names, one by one. They sound tired. Most of them have been injured in one way or another. It was supposed to be a routine patrol – if there were spiders this far north…

I shudder at the thought of spiders overrunning the stronghold, and Voronwë pats my arm soothingly.

It is as well that it is almost time for us to return. I do not think anybody is in any condition to stay here much longer.

As I look around the clearing again, my mind goes to the duty rosters. Most of the Elves with me with me will need a few days to recover from this, and that will mean sending out patrols of ten or eleven instead of twelve. Or asking those who _are _fit to take on even more, and that I cannot do. I am already demanding too much of them.

"Elbereth," I sigh. "We cannot keep this up, Voronwë."

I speak too softly for any of the others to hear me. All the same, Voronwë casts me a warning glance before he answers.

"Have faith." He helps me sit up. "We will turn the tide, Legolas. _Somehow_."

* * *

**Thranduil**

I am in the midst of meeting petitioners when I see the flash of movement by the door. Feredir is there.

For a moment I think he has come to speak to Thorontur, but he is not looking at his father. He is looking at me, face grave. There is blood on his grey healer's robe, and without a word being said I know why he is here.

I know why he is here, but I also know that Legolas' injury, whatever it is, is not life-threatening. Had that been the case, Feredir would have come in uninvited, regardless of protocol, demanded my immediate attention and delivered the news.

And if it is not life-threatening, I cannot leave until the day's requests have been dealt with.

Thorontur, without waiting for me to speak, gets to his feet. "I will see how bad it is."

I nod and force myself to concentrate on my work.

It is two hours before I can leave. I go to the healing wards, where Feredir tells me he has released Legolas with orders not to get on a horse or touch a bow for at least a week. I feel relief, and guilt. I know Thorontur would have done as much to make Legolas comfortable as I could, but that does not change the fact that _I_ did not do it.

My father was right. One does not know the price of kingship until one has a child old enough to ride into battle.

I find Legolas asleep in his bed. Feredir _did _say he told Legolas to take a mild sedative, but I am _astounded _that Legolas actually did – until I see Saeldur sitting on the windowsill and deduce (correctly, as I later learn) that there was force-feeding involved.

Thorontur, sitting by the bed, gets to his feet when he sees me.

"He is sleeping easily," he assures me. "There is no danger. Feredir only took Legolas off duty as a precaution, lest he do something to make the wound worse." He claps me on the shoulder. "I will tell Galion to send you something to eat."

He slips out, and Saeldur gets off the windowsill and comes to the bed.

"He will probably sleep through the night, my king," he says quietly. "I… I took the liberty of giving him a fairly strong dose. He needs the rest, and there is no other way to make him take it."

I smile. "If he makes a fuss about it later, you can tell him you had my leave."

Saeldur laughs, a little bitterly. "I doubt that will help."

I clap a hand on his shoulder. "You need to get some rest yourself, Saeldur."

"I?" He shakes his head, stepping away. "I have been doing _nothing_, my king, except sitting in the stronghold lecturing children about the importance of well-oiled bowstrings."

"Saeldur, at this moment your parents need you here."

"Do Aeroniel's parents not need her presence? Does Lady Mídhaer not need Rochendilwen?" He turns to the still figure in the bed. "Do _you _not need Legolas, my king?"

"You have done as much as anybody else for the defence of the realm. You have nothing to prove. You saw your brother slain before your eyes. A few weeks of peace will not diminish your valour."

"I cannot bear to see my friends work themselves to exhaustion to fulfil _my _duties."

"Would you do any less for Legolas?"

Saeldur looks at me as though I have missed the point, bows his head formally, and leaves.

* * *

**Legolas**

Rochendilwen and Saeldur are in my study helping me reorganize the archers' rosters. It is not difficult, once we reach the decision to send patrols close to the stronghold out with eleven Elves each. I am not pleased about that, but, short of going to the healing wards and demanding that Feredir clear all the injured archers for duty, there is nothing else to be done.

"Do not look so worried," Rochendilwen murmurs as she marks off the patrol routes on a map of the forest. "It is only a few days, Legolas, and then Feredir will let you ride again – and, if we are fortunate, Aeroniel and Colfind would have returned as well."

I sense Saeldur stiffen, and Rochendilwen blushes. I shake my head. I know she meant no harm; all the same, it was the wrong thing to say in his presence.

"Tell me," Saeldur says coldly, "which healer's leave do _I _need to ride again?"

"Saeldur –"

"You think _I _should not be on patrol? What of you? How long has it been since you rested, Legolas? You would not be in the stronghold now if Feredir had not insisted on it."

Saeldur's voice vibrates with tight, barely-controlled anger. Rochendilwen meets my eyes, and I nod for her to leave. The fewer witnesses we have, the better.

Saeldur lets out a breath as the door closes behind her. "Are you sure you were wise to send her away? Who will defend you now?"

"Defend me from what?" I ask.

Saeldur crosses his arms. "If you trust me –"

"Saeldur –"

"Why will you _not _let me _fight_? Do you truly have so little faith in me? If you had let me lead my own patrols, _this _might not have happened." He indicates the bulge of bandages under my tunic.

"You would have been injured instead –"

"_Nobody _might have been injured at all. _I _would not have been exhausted from days and nights of patrol duty. Why am I here if you do not trust me?"

Something about his tone is odd. Unusual. It takes me a moment to realize what, and when I do…

"Who has been upsetting you? _Again?_ Saeldur, whoever is telling you these things –"

"What?" Saeldur demands. "If someone _has _been telling me things, what of it? You have already taken me off active duty, Legolas. What more are you going to do? Tell me which Elves I may and may not speak to? Control what I may say to you?"

I know I should not react, that Saeldur is grieving and lashing out, but I _am _exhausted and he is pushing me past endurance.

"All I ask is that you have some faith in me!" I snap. "No matter what you think, I am not going out of my way to shame you."

"Then you are afraid –"

"Saeldur –"

"Afraid of what my mother will say, terrified she will summon you before the Council if something should happen to me –"

"_Saeldur_ –"

"She wanted to do it in any case! She would have summoned you before the full Council for what happened to Candnaur but I _begged _her not to, Legolas." He glares at me. "I think now I should have let her do it."

"If that is how you feel about it," I snap, "you should."

Saeldur glares at me a moment longer before he gets to his feet and stalks out.

I bury my head in my hands.

I cannot think of a single way this day could possibly get any worse.

* * *

TBC

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	2. Crisis

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to the professor.

Thanks to L.A.H.H, Melethril, candycanesrox101, Fantasia Sedai, Glorelwen, Issy, Raisinet, myselfonly, Vanillawood and Pola for reviewing Part I. :)

* * *

**Part II: Crisis**

**Thranduil**

Legolas is late when he stumbles into my study for the meeting of the War Council, but one sight of his face is enough to make any rebuke die on my lips. He looks pale, drawn, and weary beyond all belief.

Thorontur, without a word, pushes him into a chair, and nods for Îdhron to continue his report.

The meeting is brief. There is little to be said, with most of the Council members absent. The court is chafing at the restrictions on movement, but that is not relevant to the warriors, and I certainly do not want to burden them with it. I would not even tell Legolas and Îdhron about it if I had a choice. There is a reason the War Council meets in private.

When it is over and Îdhron has left, Legolas does not move. Thorontur and Arbellason, exchanging a glance, move to chairs on either side of him.

Legolas lets out a breath.

"I take it Saeldur has spoken to you."

"He has spoken to Celephindeth," Thorontur says grimly. "And she has spoken to him. In full hearing of half the court."

Legolas groans. "How bad is it?"

"That depends," Arbellason tells him. "How bad is Celephindeth telling Saeldur that she always knew you were not to be trusted and that perhaps he should consider requesting a different commanding officer?"

Legolas flinches, and Thorontur glares at Arbellason.

"It is not as bad as it sounds," I say gently, coming around the table to crouch before Legolas. "You and Saeldur have been friends for centuries. Give him time."

"I thought at least Lady Celephindeth would be pleased I have kept him from battle," Legolas mutters unhappily.

It is Thorontur who answers, one hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Elfling, I doubt there is anything you can do to please Celephindeth while she is determined to hate you. All you can do at the moment is wait."

"Do you think I should let Saeldur return to duty?"

"Do _you _think you should let Saeldur return to duty?" I ask.

Legolas shakes his head. "He is not ready."

"Then that is your answer."

"And for what it is worth," Arbellason says, "I agree with you, Legolas. Grief aside, I would not recommend putting Saeldur in the field again until you are certain he is ready to take orders. Debate is all very well in court, but the battlefield is not the place for it."

"It might help him to be active, though," Thorontur says thoughtfully. "He will be happier if he has less time to brood. If you think it suitable, Legolas, you can ask him to take the novices on their training rounds. It is as safe as anything can be, and they need not go too far outside the stronghold."

"Do you think that is wise?" Arbellason asks.

"I think, as I told Celephindeth _again _today, that it is Legolas' decision and not mine. But I also think that Saeldur has too much free time and he is spending most of it in the company of Arahael and his group of troublemakers. Celephindeth is only angry, but Arahael truly would jump at any opportunity to foment sedition."

"Why is Arahael even here?" I ask. "Should he not be at the border with Bercalion and the Southern Guard?"

"Bercalion would not say it outright, but I believe he thinks Arahael causes less trouble in the stronghold than at the border," Arbellason says dryly.

"In any case," Thorontur says, clapping a hand to Legolas' knee, "do not worry about Saeldur more than you must, Elfling. I think all he wants is reassurance that you value his skill and his counsel. If you knew how much your father and Arbellason and I quarrelled when we were your age…"

* * *

**Legolas**

The more I think about it, the more I feel Lord Thorontur has the answer. I cannot send Saeldur on regular patrols, but taking the novices out will give him something to do, and may hasten his return to his normal duties.

I have not spoken to him since he stormed out of my study. He has been avoiding me, and I thought it was best to give him time to calm down.

I wonder now if that was a mistake. Both of us know better than to argue before the warriors, and, to give Saeldur his due, he has not said a word about any of it in public. But the warriors are not fools, and they know when we are at odds. It must be even _more _clear to them now, without Aeroniel to smooth things over and divert attention.

Nobody has shown signs of insubordination – praise be to Elbereth, I could not have dealt with _that _in addition to everything else – but they are restless.

Saeldur is not in his room in the warriors' quarters. I was not expecting him to be, but I hoped to avoid meeting Lady Celephindeth.

There is no help for it.

Lady Celephindeth and Lord Belegur live on the other side of the stronghold from the warriors' quarters. I am grateful for the time it takes me to walk there. I need every second of it to steel myself for what lies ahead.

When I knock, it is Saeldur who answers the door. I try not to look too relieved.

"What do you want, Legolas?" Saeldur asks.

I had hoped for a better reception than that. Apparently he does not plan to make this easy for me.

"I wanted to speak to you."

He eyes me for a moment, and then he shrugs, backing away from the door to let me enter. He leads me into the sitting room, motions me to a chair, and says, "Very well. Speak."

"Saeldur, we… Lord Thorontur and I…"

"If you are going to blame Thorontur for your decisions –"

"I am sorry. I misspoke. _I _want you, if you feel ready, to take the novices on their training rounds outside the stronghold."

"You want me to take the novices on their training rounds."

"I would be grateful."

"Why? Were you and Lord Thorontur feeling sorry for me? Are you trying to let me feel _useful_? How long did it take you to think of something completely safe for me to do?"

"Saeldur, please –"

"I am a warrior, Legolas! I am not a nursemaid, and I do not need a nursemaid. When you have accepted that, tell me so."

I sigh and get to my feet. "I assume, then, that you will not be taking the novices out."

"I will not be accused of insubordination, my prince."

I wince. "Saeldur –"

"Make it an order, and I will go. But do not stand here expecting me to _thank _you for proving, again, that you think me incapable." He draws a furious breath. "I do _not_ want to lead children around the forest as though I were an Elfling playing Esgalorne. But if you insist on it, I will have no choice. Order me to go, and I will."

I shake my head. "I would make you do nothing against your will, Saeldur."

I turn to go, and find myself faced with a furious Lady Celephindeth.

"My lady." I bow formally.

"Leave, Legolas," she says, her voice trembling with anger. "Leave. Now."

* * *

**Thranduil**

For the first time in weeks, the War Council will meet in its rightful location. There are still empty chairs, but Maeglad returned to the stronghold last night, and Ionwë and Mídhaer this morning, so there are enough of us to justify using the larger room.

Thorontur and Legolas enter first, together. A glance is enough to tell me that Saeldur did not take kindly to Thorontur's idea.

"He refused?" I ask.

"He said I would have to make it an order if I wanted him to do it, and made it clear that even then it would be done under duress."

"Quite frankly, Legolas, I think you should have made it an order. Do not let your friendship for Saeldur cloud your judgement… That said, this is unlike Saeldur," Thorontur comments, frowning. "Maybe Celephindeth has –"

"No," I say firmly. "Celephindeth might not be very fond of Legolas at the moment, but she would not actually push Saeldur to insubordination."

"It was not insubordination," Legolas points out. "I did not _order _him to do anything."

"No, but he put you in a difficult position," Thorontur says. "Either to let him refuse or to force him to do something against his will. Saeldur would normally never dream of refusing anything you asked of him, certainly not on the grounds that it was not sufficiently interesting. And he has let the archers sense his discontent."

"They have not let it affect them."

"You think so, Legolas, because they still heed _you _without question. You do not realize how much the young archers admire you; it would take far more than an argument with Saeldur to make them treat youwith anything but respect. They will not extend the same courtesy to everyone."

Before I can demand an explanation, the door opens and the others come in.

Arbellason's grave expression sends all worries about Saeldur out of my head.

"I have had word from Ellaurë," he announces without preamble, not even waiting for everyone to sit. "She and Bercalion need reinforcements. Immediately."

* * *

**Legolas**

"They need archers," Arbellason goes on, looking at me. "Legolas, I know you cannot spare many –"

"Take them off patrol," Mídhaer cuts in. "As many as you need, Legolas. Ionwë and I can handle the patrols. At the moment the archers are needed more urgently at the southern border."

I nod. Slowly. "I will send them, but only the most inexperienced archers are here now. The rest are with Aeroniel and Colfind. I can recall them, but –"

"No," my father says. "Their mission is too important to cut short. Send whatever warriors you can, but do not recall Aeroniel or any that are with her. When do you expect her to return?"

"In a week, perhaps ten days."

"And Ellaurë?" he asks, turning to Arbellason.

"That depends on how quickly they can turn the tide. And for that they must have archers. _Your _archers," he adds, nodding at me. "They do not need defenders. They need a force that can make sorties and harry the Orcs until they are forced to retreat."

"How many does she need?"

"As many as you can possibly send her… And, Legolas, go now. Unless someone has something important to discuss that needs Legolas' attention?" He looks around and receives shakes of the head from everyone. "Very well, then. Go _now_, Legolas, and start working it out. I want them ready to ride at first light tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord."

I scramble to my feet and hurry out, sending a page running for Saeldur and Rochendilwen before I go to my study.

Rochendilwen is with me in a few minutes. Close on her heels comes the page, who hesitates in the doorway, looking at me with apology and a hint of fear.

"What is it?" I ask. "Could you not find Lord Saeldur?"

"I found him, Prince Legolas, but he says…"

"What?" Rochendilwen demands impatiently. "Is he busy?"

"He says he must oversee the novices on the archery field and he will have no time to spare for anything else until someone relieves him."

"Thank you. You may leave," I say, before Rochendilwen can ask any questions.

When the page has gone, shutting the door behind him, she turns to me. "Legolas? _What?_"

"Saeldur is unhappy about –"

"About being taken off duty. I know. Everyone in the stronghold knows. I would not be surprised if everyone in Imladris, Lothlórien and Mithlond knows. That is no reason to throw a tantrum. Why are you _letting _him? His duties are not a matter of choice! If he did not want to take orders, he should not have sworn his warrior's oaths."

"What choicedo I have? He will not speak to me, Lady Celephindeth does not even want to _look _at me –"

"Lady Celephindeth may do as she pleases. Saeldur is sworn to obey you."

"I have never forced anyone to obey me. I do not want to start now." I shake my head. "I do not want to start with _Saeldur_."

"You have never forced him to do anything. He chose to be an archer. He _asked _to be your second." Rochendilwen's hand finds my shoulder. "We are your friends, Legolas, and we will always _be _your friends, but we also swore to obey you as our commanding officer. You cannot let this pass."

"I will speak to him," I promise. "Once we have sent the archers to Ellaurë."

"_Do it._"

"I will."

Rochendilwen nods, not entirely satisfied, and reaches for the day's duty roster.

* * *

**Thranduil**

When Arbellason, Thorontur and I go to Legolas' study after the War Council, we find him, with Rochendilwen, going over the patrol lists.

I pause a moment in the doorway, studying them. It never ceases to amaze me that Legolas and Rochendilwen have found the ease of their old friendship, after everything that has happened. I have forgiven her, yes, but I could never have trusted her as willingly as Legolas does.

"Are you ready?" Arbellason asks.

"We will be ready. The archers in the stronghold have been told not to leave, and the ones on patrol will be told as they come in."

"Who is leading them?" Arbellason pauses and glances at Legolas. Legolas nods, indicating that he can speak freely before Rochendilwen, and Arbellason goes on. "What of Saeldur? This is safe enough, and Ellaurë or Bercalion can assume command as soon as he gets there. He can lead them there and come straight back."

Legolas and Rochendilwen exchange a glance, and my breath catches. _Something _has happened.

"What is it?" Thorontur demands, noticing the look.

"I do not think it is wise to ask this of Saeldur, my lord," Legolas says.

Rochendilwen follows that with, "I will take the archers south. It would be better if Legolas did, perhaps, but he has already asked for Feredir's permission and been refused."

Arbellason's mouth is a thin line. "Why not Saeldur?" Legolas and Rochendilwen look at each other again, but neither of them speaks. "Legolas," Arbellason says sharply, "as commander of the army I _demand _an answer. That is an order. Why not Saeldur?"

Legolas' cheeks are crimson. "He will certainly not go unless I make it an order, my lord," he says softly. "And at the moment I do not know if he will go even if I do. I believe I have handled the situation ill." He ducks his head. "But if you truly want him to go, I doubt he would refuse _you_."

Arbellason's eyes are blazing. "I should like to see him try to refuse me," he growls. "But that is hardly the point. I have made plenty of allowances for Saeldur's grief, but if he cannot obey his commanding officer, he has no place among my warriors."

Legolas looks alarmed. "Lord Arbellason –"

"I do not want to create further difficulties for you, Legolas," Arbellason says. "But I cannot allow him to continue as your second if this persists. Your archers are our strike force. One way or another, Saeldur is going to stop spreading discontent among them. If he wants to complain about how the War Council knows nothing about battle, he can do so in court, not in the warriors' halls."

"But –"

"_No_, Legolas. I _understand _that he is grieving. That was why he was taken off duty, so that he could grieve in peace. I _will not _have him upsetting my archers. And there will be _no argument_."

Legolas bows his head unhappily. "Yes, my lord."

"Rochendilwen!"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Have the archers ready to leave at dawn. Legolas, send someone to tell Saeldur I want to see him in my study after dinner."

* * *

**Legolas**

It is with considerable relief that I lay my hands on the huge double doors emblazoned with a bow crossed by two long knives. It is well past midnight, and it has been an eventful day. At least in the hall of the Colhador I am hopeful of finding some peace.

With most of the archers away, it is only half full. There are a few Elves sparring on mats in the centre of the room. Most of them are fletching arrows or polishing knives. Some are gathered around Rochendilwen, who is explaining the new schedule.

The warriors nod as I pass them, standing a little straighter, as they always do. But there is an undercurrent of tension running through them. I can sense it.

Rochendilwen meets my eyes without pausing in her conversation. She looks worried –

No. Not worried. Desperate.

As I walk by her to the small council room at the other end of the hall, she tells the archers to prepare to leave, follows me, and shuts the door behind her.

"What?" I ask.

"Legolas… I do not think they will be ready in the morning."

"_What?_"

"They think I am trying to take Saeldur's place and they resent it."

"But – that is – no. They would not refuse a direct order."

"They will not refuse a direct order from _you_. At the moment, though, I am certain they will refuse any orders I try to give them. _You_ can tell them to follow me…"

"But what will you do when you are leagues from the stronghold and I am not there to order them?" I finish her thought. "Elbereth! I never thought…"

"I am sorry," she says, distressed.

"You are not to blame. I just wish –"

I cut myself off when the door opens. Saeldur comes in, slamming it shut so hard I can feel the walls tremble.

"Did you not have the courage to do it yourself?" he hisses, pushing me back against the wall and holding me there with both hands. "Hiding behind Arbellason this time instead of Thorontur?"

"Saeldur!" Rochendilwen snaps. "Are you out of your _mind_?"

Looking into Saeldur's eyes, I think that, perhaps, he is. I have never seen him so furious. His arms are hard and unyielding against my ribs. I can feel stitches break and the sudden dampness of blood under my tunic.

"Saeldur." I fight to keep my voice steady, but from the way his eyes narrow I know I am failing. "Release me. Now."

He only presses harder. "Lord Arbellason has suspended me _indefinitely_. Do you know what that means, Legolas?"

"Saeldur –"

"It means I do not take your orders. Arahael was right –"

"You have been letting _Arahael_ tell you his lies?" I demand incredulously. I knew _somebody _was talking to him and planting worries in his mind, but Arahael? He has been listening to a known troublemaker? "Saeldur, whatever he told you –"

"Deny it," he growls. "Deny it if you dare."

"What _did _he tell you?" I demand. "That I do not trust you? That I see you as a threat?" Something flickers in Saeldur's eyes, and I gasp in sudden realization. "He told you I saw Candnaur as a threat." Saeldur's arms push harder, constricting my breathing. "And you _believed _him?"

"What _else _am I to believe?" Saeldur's voice is frighteningly calm now. "Is that why you let him stay in camp, Legolas? Were you hoping he would be taken?"

All desire to fight goes out of me at those words. I cannot believe Saeldur – _Saeldur_, one of my closest friends – believes that of me.

"_Saeldur!_" Rochendilwen is on him, pulling him off. "This has gone far enough!"

"You!" Saeldur turns on her. "You trust _her_, Legolas? You do not trust me, but you trust a traitor?"

Rochendilwen warns me to silence with a glance.

"You are right," she tells Saeldur calmly. "I _did _once betray the King's trust. And this I can tell you, Saeldur: you are not thinking clearly now, but if your actions cause harm to Legolas, or to the realm, or to anything you hold dear, you will never forgive yourself. Remember that."

Saeldur, wrenching himself away from her, storms out.

Rochendilwen glances at me, frowning at the blood now spreading on my tunic.

"Go to the healers, Legolas. I can deal with this."

* * *

**Thranduil**

"If that wretched Dwarf-brained Arahael has put Saeldur up to this," Thorontur snarls, "I will have him exiled to Rhûn."

I glance up at him. "We can hardly exile him for expressing an opinion, no matter how ludicrous." Legolas hisses softly as the needle goes in, and I tighten the arm I have around him. "Easy, Elfling. How bad is it, Feredir?"

"For a half-healed injury that was torn open?" A half-smile flickers across Feredir's face. "Not as bad as it could have been, my king. It will keep him from patrols a few days longer. Are you having any difficulties breathing, Legolas?"

"No," Legolas grunts.

"You did well to wake me at once."

"Rochendilwen insisted."

"Rochendilwen is sensible." Feredir ties off the last stitch, snips the thread, and motions to Thorontur to give him the bandages on the table. "I will send for Voronwë and Eredhion to see you back to your room. _Rest._"

"He is right, Legolas," Thorontur says as he helps Feredir wrap the bandage and pull Legolas' tunic down over it. "Rest. At least for a day or two. Let Rochendilwen handle the archers."

"Drink this," Feredir orders, holding a cup to Legolas' lips.

Legolas grimaces, but for once he does not protest, obediently swallowing the draught. A few moments later, he slumps more heavily into my arms, eyes glazing over.

"Let him be," Feredir says, helping me lower Legolas to the pillows. "He will awaken in an hour or two, and he can go back to his room after that."

He leaves, but Thorontur stays with me to watch over Legolas' dreams.

Some time later, Legolas has just woken and is sitting up when Arbellason comes in, followed by Rochendilwen, Eredhion and Voronwë. Arbellason and my son's guards look grave; Rochendilwen looks like she will burst into tears any moment.

She stumbles to the bed and collapses onto the edge of it.

"I am sorry," she says, voice shaking. "I am so, so sorry, Legolas."

Legolas frowns. "What is it?"

"The archers say they will not follow her," Arbellason says. His voice is shaking as well. I can read the barely-suppressed rage in it. "In fact, they insist they will do nothing until we reinstate Saeldur."

I stare at him. "They cannot refuse their duties!"

"They _have _refused. Elbereth!"

Legolas shakes his head. "Did Saeldur ask this of them? He would never have done!"

"Not on his own." Thorontur's voice is grim. "But he and Arahael have been in and out of the warriors' halls, and Arahael knows how to twist words."

"That is not important now," Arbellason snaps. "We have other worries. I cannot give in to this blackmail, _we _cannot give in to it, but Ellaurë needs help." He turns to my son. "Legolas. You know the archers, and Saeldur, better than any of us. Is there _anything _we can do? They _must _ride at first light."

Involuntarily, we all glance at the window, at the sky that has already begun to brighten.

"Legolas?" Thorontur asks.

Legolas ducks his head for a moment. I can feel him trembling, but then he straightens, back stiff under my hand.

"They will ride at first light, my lord. I promise you that." He turns to Rochendilwen. "Get ready, get your weapons and your horse, and be at the gate."

She nods and hurries out.

"Legolas?" Voronwë asks.

Legolas meets his eyes. "Bring me my bow."

* * *

TBC

* * *

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	3. Hope

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Tolkien.

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* * *

**Part III: Hope**

**Legolas**

I ignore Feredir's protests and push myself out of bed. This has gone far enough. It has gone _past _far enough, and it is _long _past time for me to have done something about it. I do not know what is going to happen in a week, or for that matter tomorrow, but _today _the archers of Eryn Galen willride at first light.

Feredir continues to object as Eredhion and Voronwë help me on with my cloak, but nobody else does.

My father, Arbellason and Thorontur are warriors. They understand that sometimes you must go into battle injured, unprepared and desperate, because the battle will not wait.

My father stands by the window, watching without protest as Eredhion helps me strap on my quiver.

"Go with Elbereth," is all he says when I kneel for his blessing. But the hand that rests on my head is trembling, and I know how frightened he is.

I cannot run without breaking the stitches again, but I walk as quickly as I can, Eredhion and Voronwë behind me. We go outside, crossing the courtyard to the warriors' halls. This is our last resort – this is _my _last resort. I am staking everything on my faith that, no matter what happens, the archers are loyal to me. If I am wrong…

Voronwë squeezes my shoulder.

The large double doors emblazoned with the bow-and-knives are before me. I square my shoulders, stand as straight as I can, and push them open.

The sight that meets my eyes is dismal. A couple of novices are sparring half-heartedly and with a lack of attention that will have them both killed in a real battle. The archers who _should _be preparing to ride are lounging in a huddle by the far wall.

Elbereth. This is worse than I thought.

I cannot show the slightest sign of nervousness now.

I school my face into as impassive an expression as I can manage, and then I clear my throat.

They look up.

One by one, they get to their feet and come to me. They have clearly been expecting someone to come and remonstrate with them, and it appears that they are prepared to argue.

"It is not that we do not wish to follow orders," one of them begins.

"_Enough_," I say forcefully, not giving him a chance to continue. "I am not here to listen to your reasons for insubordination." I hear Eredhion's sharp intake of breath behind me, but I ignore it. This is not the time to mince words. "I have never made any of you obey me against your will, and I do not intend to start today. No matter what _you _intend to do, _I _am going to Ellaurë. If you are not at the gate, ready to leave, in five minutes, I will assume that you have decided to stay here."

I hold their gaze long enough for them to know that I mean what I say. Then I turn to go.

I have barely taken a step when one of them says urgently, "Legolas!"

"What?" I ask sharply.

"Fifteen minutes, Legolas, please. _Please. _We can ride without our packs, but we have to collect weapons and armour and then go to the stables. The grooms must all be abed at this hour. Fifteen minutes."

"I will wait ten minutes," I say, "and not one second longer."

Rochendilwen is waiting by the gate. I meet her eyes with a smile. I know my archers.

They will come.

* * *

**Thranduil**

We are watching from one of the windows. Feredir is looking at me reproachfully, but what choice did I have?

Rochendilwen has been waiting some time when Legolas joins her. He does not seem worried.

A few minutes later, the first of the archers, armed and ready, leads his horse to the gate, and bows formally to Legolas, fist to chest. Legolas responds with a curt nod. The archer, looking chastened, mounts his horse and waits quietly behind Rochendilwen.

Another archer follows. Then a third, and a fourth, and in moments the entire division is there, waiting in their files. I let out a sigh of relief. I knew that Legolas believed they would not let him go injured and alone, but I must confess that I was not entirely certain. It is a relief, for once, to know that I was wrong.

The archers are nervous. I can see it in the stillness with which they sit at attention on their horses, the furtive glances cast in Legolas' direction as they wait for a sign that they have not forfeited their commander's trust.

Legolas looks them over. They sit straighter under his gaze. A moment passes, and finally he rewards them with the half-smile that tells them they are forgiven.

There are answering smiles from his warriors, relief pouring from them in waves.

Legolas heels his horse around to the end of the column, taking rearguard with Voronwë and Eredhion. Then he signals Rochendilwen.

As dawn breaks over the forest, the archers of Eryn Galen ride to battle.

"Elbereth," Thorontur breathes next to me. "I can admit now, Thranduil, that I was worried. I know they love Legolas, but I was afraid the situation had deteriorated beyond all help."

"It deteriorated enough to require Legolas going into battle injured," Arbellason mutters. "And now that they have gone…"

"What?" Thorontur says.

"It is time to deal with Saeldur."

Thorontur sighs. "I know you are angry with him. So am I. But do you not think we should make _some _allowance for his state of mind? He has always been completely loyal to Legolas."

"You think we should _condone _what he has been doing?"

"I said nothing of the kind. I only think shouting at him more will serve no purpose whatsoever."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Thorontur smiles. It is not a nice smile. "I have an idea."

* * *

**Legolas**

Faelwen is making the ride as easy as she can, but I can still feel blood trickling down my chest and stomach. Not much, not enough to be dangerous, not even enough to slow me down in battle. But it is there.

"What will happen when we return?" Eredhion asks me in an undertone. "What if Saeldur is still… _grieving_?"

Voronwë scoffs. "Do you think Lord Arbellason will stand for this sort of grieving?"

"Do you think Lord Arbellason will dismiss him… permanently?" Eredhion asks, shooting me a sidelong glance.

"I hope not," I say.

"Will you reinstate him if Arbellason permits it?" Voronwë enquires.

I hesitate. Arbellason suspended Saeldur, but Arbellason will not insist on my reinstating him as my second-in-command, or even accepting him as an archer again.

"Why would I not?" I say at last, patting Faelwen's neck.

Voronwë frowns at me, but says nothing. We ride on under the trees.

* * *

**Thranduil**

The knock at my study door is on time. I cannot hold back a grim smile. Thorontur was right. Not even in his current state of mind would Saeldur dream of ignoring a direct summons from his king.

It is early, too early for Saeldur to have heard anything of what happened in the night, and he enters looking puzzled, and a little nervous, but not unduly disturbed.

"Sit, Saeldur," Thorontur says, indicating a chair. "We require your counsel."

"My counsel?" Saeldur asks, now a little uncertain. Whatever he was expecting when I sent for him, it was not that. "About… about what, my lord?"

"About the archers." Thorontur sounds as though this should have been perfectly obvious. "_Sit_, Saeldur."

Saeldur does not sit. "Perhaps it would be better for you to ask Legolas about the archers, my lord," he says stiffly, not quite meeting Thorontur's eyes.

Arbellason looks like he intends to respond sharply, but a glance from Thorontur silences him.

"It would indeed by better," Thorontur agrees easily. "But since that is not an option at the moment… Sit, Saeldur." Saeldur sinks wordlessly into the chair. "I would infinitely prefer to discuss this with Legolas," Thorontur goes on. "Still. We all do what we must."

"Where… where is Legolas?"

"If Feredir had had his way," Thorontur says, and suddenly his voice is as sharp as one of the archers' arrowheads, "Legolas would be resting in his room this moment. Your… _altercation_… with him yesterday certainly did not help his healing."

Saeldur flushes, and for the first time I think Thorontur was right. This is a far more effective way of dealing with him.

"Where is he, my lord?"

"He is leading the archers to the southern border."

Saeldur's stares at him in disbelief. "But – he was – Feredir forbade riding for him. I thought – Rochendilwen –"

"That was our plan," Thorontur says dryly. "For some reason the archers balked at it. I was astonished. It has never happened before." He leans back in his chair. "Do you have any idea why they might have done that, Saeldur?"

The disbelief is turning into dawning understanding.

"I…"

"Perhaps because _you _have been as peevish as a year-old Elfling, refusing orders, encouraging the archers to refuse orders, and… What was it I heard Arahael telling you yesterday? Ah, yes, showing Legolas that he needs you far more than you need him."

And with understanding comes horror.

"Lord Thorontur, I –"

"Do you know _why _warriors are forbidden to go into battle injured, Saeldur?"

Thorontur _can _be merciless. Saeldur slumps in his chair, all defiance draining from his face as he mumbles, "Yes, my lord."

Thorontur nods, once. Then he pushes a map of the stronghold across the table to Saeldur, saying, "Now, about the new schedule for patrols –"

"My lord, please."

Thorontur looks up. "Please?"

"Let me go after them." Saeldur is wide-eyed and begging. "Please, my lord."

This time Arbellason answers. "You know perfectly well that all those who are not warriors are confined to the stronghold at this time. And at this moment, Saeldur, _you _are not a warrior."

"_Please_, my lord. I – I can catch up. They cannot have gone far. I will – please – I never – my king, you _must _believe me." He turns to me. "I _never _intended that Legolas should go into battle injured. I never thought you would _let _him."

"You hardly left me a choice," I point out.

"I thought…"

"You thought what?" Arbellason demands. "You thought that we would give in to the archers and tell you to lead them out? You thought I would _rescind _your suspension because you persuaded my warriors to balk at their orders?"

"My lord, _please_. I am sorry, I will take whatever punishment you want when I return, but let me go now. _Please. _If anything happens to Legolas –"

"If anything happens to Legolas," Thorontur says coolly, "you will live with it. Was this not what you expected of us? To send you into battle when you were not ready? Was that not what you expected of _Legolas_?"

* * *

**Legolas**

"Elbereth," Ellaurë gasps as I dismount. "Was Thranduil out of his _mind_, letting you come like this?"

"It is not as bad as it looks," I assure her.

"It had better not be." She grasps my forearm in greeting. "I am glad to see you, Legolas. Come with me."

She leads me through the camp and leaps up into one of the trees on the edge of it. I follow, pausing to greet the tree as I do. It responds with a cheerful, if imprudent, wriggle of the branch under my feet.

Fortunately, the tree catches me before I can fall.

"Be careful, idiot," Ellaurë hisses to it. "How am I to face his father if you drop him?"

We get to the top, clambering onto a makeshift _talan_. Bercalion and Mîr-megil are there already. They greet me with relief. It appears that we have come none too soon.

"Here," Mîr-megil says, stepping aside so I can see past him. "See for yourself."

I draw in a sharp breath as I see the Orc camps on the other side of the river. They are stretched out, carpeting the forest floor, the trees blackened by the smoke from their fires.

"They are quiet now," Ellaurë says. "Orcs need sleep. It is a small mercy."

"And that is why we need _you_," Bercalion adds. "We can hold against them indefinitely, but to what end? Dol Guldur only sends more in the wake of the ones we kill. Ellaurë must return to the stronghold and Mîr-megil to the eastern border."

"Our coming here has served little purpose in any case," Ellaurë comments wryly. "We could hardly bring more than a few warriors each, and all we have achieved is that the three of us sit here arguing about what to do."

Bercalion laughs. "You know I am grateful for your help, Ellaurë."

Mîr-megil shakes his head. "In any case, I am sure you have guessed why we wanted the Colhador, Legolas. At the moment, the Orcs rest at night."

"I did not want to weaken the defensive line," Bercalion adds. "And I do not want the archers in it now. I want you there." He indicates the Orc camps. "Do not take foolish risks, but go there and harry them until they have no choice but to retreat."

* * *

**Thranduil**

"My lord, _please_," Saeldur begs. "It has been a week. Let me go."

"Saeldur," Arbellason says, not unkindly, "be sensible. How much difference do you think one warrior can make?"

"If you rescind my suspension, I can relieve Legolas," Saeldur says hopefully.

Arbellason sighs. "If I rescind your suspension, all I will do is rescind your suspension. It is up to Legolas to decide whether to reinstate you as his second. And it is hardly a decision he can make in the middle of a battlefield."

Saeldur looks unhappy, but he bows and leaves the room without further protest.

Once he is gone, Thorontur says, "He is still spending far too much time with Arahael. I know he has little to do at the moment, but… I do not think it is wise."

"We can hardly censor the boy's friends," I point out. "Let him be, Thorontur. He was overwrought and he was foolish, but I do not suppose for a moment that Saeldur would ever knowingly do anything to hurt Legolas."

"He would never knowingly do anything to hurt Legolas," Thorontur agrees. "But Arahael _would_, and Arahael is no fool."

* * *

**Legolas**

When Bercalion finally announces that the last Orc camp has retreated far enough from the river for his satisfaction, it is all I can do not to cheer. I am tired. The past days have been an endless round of raiding, returning, and tending wounds, only to go out again in an hour.

There was no other way. Had I been able to bring more archers, had Bercalion or Mîr-megil been able to spare me some warriors, we might have thought about shifts and rest. As it was… The thing about relentless harrying is that it must be relentless. Time for us to rest would also have been time for the Orcs to rest, and that we could not afford.

It is done, though. Done with numerous injuries but no fatalities, for which I am immeasurably grateful.

We have sent word that we are returning, and we take the ride back more easily than we took the ride out. We are still quick – I want to get everyone to the healers and to the stronghold for some real respite, respite that lasts longer than an hour and is not cut short halfway through with a call to arms.

I could do with some time away from the battlefield as well. I am not seriously injured, but the first cut has been torn open again almost daily and there have been new ones added.

I think, this time, I will not argue with Feredir.

That is the thought in my head when the gates of the stronghold are finally before us. Rochendilwen announces us. The gates open and we ride through.

There are Elves waiting in the courtyard to welcome returning friends and kin. Most of them nod to me as I pass.

My father is waiting on the steps. He nods briefly when I catch his eye. His expression does not change, but I can see him relaxing in relief.

There will be time to speak to him. Later.

I lay a hand on Faelwen's neck. She stills obediently, and I swing myself off her back to the ground.

I land awkwardly. For a moment I am certain I will be unable to keep my feet, and then there is a hand under my elbow, pulling me away from the horse and helping me support my own weight.

I turn to thank whoever it is.

I find myself facing Saeldur.

Elbereth.

Not here. Not now. I cannot face more arguments and accusations _now_.

Saeldur meets my eyes. For once, I cannot read his expression.

Then, without warning, he drops to one knee, bends his head, pulls his bow from its sheath and holds it up in both hands.

"My bow is yours, Legolas." His voice is trembling, and when he looks at me, real fear is in his face. "If you will have it."

He thinks I will refuse him.

Elbereth.

* * *

**Thranduil**

I can see them across the courtyard. Saeldur is on one knee, bow held out to Legolas.

I can see the moment when Legolas wants to refuse it. Saeldur has hurt him, and he would have to be more than an Elf not even to _think _about petty revenge.

If I can see it, Saeldur can certainly sense it. But he does not move, still holding out the bow as though persistence will change Legolas' mind.

And why not? They have been friends for centuries, and Saeldur knows better than anyone that Legolas is incapable of holding a grudge for very long, especially in the face of true repentance.

I can see the moment when Legolas' anger dissipates.

He holds out his hand, almost touching the bow, and says something that makes Saeldur roll his eyes and thrust it at him. Legolas' fingers close around it reflexively, which is all to the good because in the next instant Saeldur is on his feet, patting Legolas down, tilting his head back to check for concussion, seizing his arm and hustling him towards the door that leads directly into the healing wards.

As soon as I can get away, I go to the healing wards myself.

Saeldur is propping Legolas up while one of the younger healers bandages his shoulder. I let out a sigh of relief. If they have let one of the children deal with Legolas, his injuries cannot be dangerous.

"My king," Saeldur says, smiling at me.

"Saeldur." I reach for Legolas' chin, tilt his head up to look at him. "How are you, Elfling?"

"Tired," Legolas confesses.

Saeldur laughs and rubs his back. "He _is _tired, my king. He is never this compliant unless he is exhausted."

"He does not have much time to rest." That is Arbellason's voice. I turn to see that he and Thorontur have just entered the ward. They come up to us, and Arbellason nods to the healer. "Leave us, Limbreth."

The young _ellon _bows and slips away.

"What?" I ask, unable to keep the fear from tingeing my voice. "What has happened now?"

"Celephindeth." Arbellason glances at Saeldur, and I know that only his presence prevented him from calling her something stronger.

"What is it, my lord?" Legolas asks.

Thorontur pushes past Arbellason to sit on the edge of the bed, in the place the healer has just vacated.

"She just spoke to us." His eyes flicker to Saeldur as well, something inscrutable in them, before returning to my son. "She intends to summon you before the open court tomorrow. On the charge that your negligence led to Candnaur's death." Thorontur looks at Saeldur again, and this time there is no mistaking the coldness in his gaze. "And on the charge that you attempted to force Saeldur into battle against his will."

Legolas looks stunned, but no more than all of us feel. Celephindeth threatened, but I never thought she would actually _do _it.

I am not worried about the court's final decision – I know every member of my War Council will support Legolas, and Thorontur will probably end up accusing Celephindeth outright of sedition if he is not restrained. And for the rest, I know my courtiers. They scheme and they plot among themselves, but for the most part they would never dream of making the warriors' lives any more difficult than they already are.

All the same, before he can be exonerated, he will be interrogated, accused of whatever Celephindeth chooses to accuse him of, and have every decision he has ever taken called into question. It will not be pleasant.

Legolas starts to draw away from Saeldur, jolting his friend into speech.

"No," he says furiously, pulling Legolas back. "I had nothing to do with this, Legolas, I swear to you. I know I said – but I would never have – Elbereth! I thought she had given up the idea. You _must _believe me." His hands are on Legolas' shoulders. "I would never do that to you. _Never. _Please. You must believe me, Legolas."

Legolas gives him a long look. Then he nods. "I do."

"Be that as it may," Thorontur says, "you will have to face the court in the morning, Legolas."

"I know," Legolas mumbles unhappily.

"No." That is Saeldur. His hand finds Legolas' knee and squeezes it. "I am your second, and I was there for every moment of it." He looks at Lord Thorontur. "If Legolas has been summoned, then so have I. _We_ will face the court in the morning, my lord."

Thorontur almost smiles.

* * *

THE END

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!

And, yes, I know you probably want to do unspeakable things to me, but that _is _the end of this story. What happens next is part of another story… Which, if a certain somebody does their job as my LOTR conscience-keeper, I will be posting fairly soon. ;-)


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